


A Brother's Love

by blackenedfeathersfalling



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackenedfeathersfalling/pseuds/blackenedfeathersfalling
Summary: Emeritus brothers, two and three, are still navigating the rough waters of their relationship. In the end, it seems they always know where they stand.Here's my offering for the Ghost BC Gift Exchange 2020 for @teriopi on tumblr who requested some SFW goodness involving Papa III. It's based on some lore from longer fic. Comments are welcome! Please enjoy!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	A Brother's Love

The branches of the massive Scottish pine rustled and creaked as a small army of ghouls labored to situate the tree in the corner of the abbey library. Small piles of pine needles fell to the floor surrounding a beautiful silver-plated tree stand. An ornate faux root structure spread out from the water well at the center of the structure. The slender roots, stretching out in all directions, provided much needed stability so the base would accommodate the weight of the tree. It seemed something so delicately fashioned could hardly accommodate a 16-foot tree. Yet as the tree was erected to its reveal its full height, the stand held strong with no sign of movement.

“A little to the right, per favore,” Papa Emeritus the Third directed as he entered the library holding a large cardboard box.

Across the room from the activity, Papa Emeritus the Second sat in a leather wing back situated in the opposite corner. He was often found in this spot since having retired from his papal duties. Abbey staff and clergy members knew better than to disturb him. His reading and study time were sacrosanct. His sharp focus on the contents of a large book on his lap was interrupted by a loud crash. Looking up from his book, he was met with the wide-eyed gazes of three ghouls. The Second was mildly amused at how the ghouls’ terror was almost palpable, their stares having focused on him directly. Their attention should have been on the spectacle on the other side of the room. Papa Emeritus the Third sat sprawled on the floor surrounded by ornaments, most of them broken. It appeared he had slipped on errant pine needles shed when transporting the tree to the corner of the room.

Second sighed in exasperation. There was no point in trying to return to reading his book. The activity of decorating the tree was just commencing and surely The Third would soon spout a litany of curses and excuses for his clumsiness.

As if on cue, “Fottuto inferno! State tutti cercando di uccidere vostro Papa?” The Third glared at the ghoul helping him to his feet.

“I’m so sorry Papa, no we are not trying to kill you. But with a tree this size it’s impossible to keep the…” 

“Don’t apologize,” The Third interrupted, “it is to be expected. Will someone clean this up before someone else falls?”

“You would have fallen with or without something on the floor, Marco. Grace and agility are not your strong suits.” The Second interjected with a smirk.

“Giovanni, you are a royal…” he started to respond when Marco noticed a purple glass heart broken into two pieces down the middle, “asshole.”

Marco bent to lift and examine the glass ornament from the floor. Minute flecks of gold reflected the light from within the ornament. A heavy sigh escaped him as he set the broken pieces on the side table next to an oversized leather chesterfield.

“Mama,” he whispered.

“Sentimental fool.” Giovanni murmured under his breath.

Marco shot him a piercing look. He opened his mouth to reply but closed it again after a moment of consideration.

“What is the point?” he thought.

Instead, Marco addressed the ghouls, “Aether please see to this mess and finish the decorations. I have remembered a prior engagement.”

“Of course, Papa.” Aether responded, his dark eyes sympathetic from beneath his mask. “I will be glad to see to it.”

“Thank you,” Marco responded wearily.

He exited the library and returned to his rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giovanni allowed himself to plop back into his chair. He regarded the ghouls busily seeing to the decoration of the tree in the corner of the room. Of course he had been warned about the intrusion, but he had insisted on continuing his afternoon ritual. He was a creature of habit, always had been. Giovanni had always found people to be unreliable and tedious. Relationships, whether platonic or romantic, were tiresome and often tenuous ventures in his opinion. Books never let him down, however. No matter his mood or schedule, they were always there, ready to challenge, entertain, and comfort him.

Given Giovanni’s disposition, he could never quite understand or stomach dealing with his younger brother. Marco was impulsive, irresponsible, and prone to excess in numerous situations. They were about as different as any two could be. Giovanni did not mind the administrative tasks required to run The Church. He had a sharp intellect and an eye for details. Marco, on the other hand, always seemed to find other endeavors more important. For example, managing the gardens, tending to the aesthetic aspects of Church rituals, and planning events and parties.

All the fuss Marco made about the Yule season was particularly tiresome to Giovanni. Each year he went all out. Planning commenced late summer. Marco insisted on doing most of it personally, which took him away from his papal duties. Menus were carefully curated with the best and most exotic ingredients. Both the interior and exterior of the abbey were decorated, from the grand halls to the servant’s quarters. Festivities took place throughout December ranging from casual get togethers and dinners for the clergy and siblings, to grand parties attended by a myriad of local and foreign dignitaries and celebrities. All of it incurred an exorbitant sum, to which Giovanni objected each year to no avail. Board members were easily charmed by Marco and his ideas.

It had always been Marco’s gift. No matter what he wanted he was always able to worm his way into getting what he wanted. Giovanni thought the fault largely rested with Marco’s mother, Serena. She knew how to charm the best of them, especially Nihil. He was like putty in her hands, giving in to every whim and desire. Serena appeared to have passed this on to Marco, whether through genetics or in practice, Giovanni was unsure.

However it was gained, Marco was as masterful at persuasion as his mother. They both effortlessly enticed benefactors into donating untold amounts to The Church annually. Giovanni found the entire process exhausting. Admittedly, he was grateful to be relieved of this task.

Giovanni had to admit, Marco had won him over on occasion. As a baby he had been positively cherubic, with his raven hair and sparkling green eyes. Much to his surprise, Giovanni often found himself amusing a small Marco in spite of himself. He would make silly faces, float paper boats he had made in the garden koi ponds, and crafted sock puppets for his amusement. Marco rewarded Giovanni with the widest smiles and loudest belly laughs for his efforts. Marco adored him. Giovanni never forgot how it felt to be wholeheartedly loved by his young brother.

On the day Serena passed Giovanni was fifteen and Marco ten. The years distanced the brothers, largely due to adolescence and Nihil’s tireless efforts to pit the brothers against one another. Following her service, Giovanni had found Marco sobbing behind an old oak tree in the gardens. He secretly watched as Marco spoke to a stuffed black cat Giovanni had given him for his fifth birthday.

“She, she’s gone and lef, left us Jezzie,” he stuttered between sobs, “and she’s never coming back. We are alone. No one loves us any more.”

Giovanni was moved to tears seeing his younger brother grieve for his mother. Serena had been good to him. He would even go so far as to say she loved him, and he loved her. Giovanni was not her biological son but she treated him as her own. She was one of the few people he had known who challenged his father’s myopic and archaic views regarding The Church. She was a beautiful breath of fresh air, but strong in her resolve to build The Church into a spiritual haven for all. She had even given the brothers names when their father would not. Giovanni wondered if anyone else realized she was the foundation of their Church and their family.

In his room the next day, Marco found a small black Persian kitten in a basket with a large purple bow around its neck. Giovanni watched silently through a crack in the door. Marco lifted the kitten out of the basket.

“Why, you have the most beautiful green eyes, Jezebel.” He held the kitten to his chest. “Just like Mama’s.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marco sighed as he poured a generous amount of wine into a goblet. He sat on the oversized chaise in his chambers unable to stop thinking about the broken ornament. He was clumsy. Even though he was exceedingly insensitive, Giovanni was right. It was not as if he was this way all the time. Whenever Marco was overextended or had several things on his mind, sometimes his body did not keep up with his brain. Giovanni had no right to judge, he’d seen him take more than one tumble down the stairs because he couldn’t keep his nose out of a book. Stronzo!

He swung his legs up onto the chaise and pulled a blanket over his lower body. There was a chill in the air today. Perhaps it would snow later, but snow was rare in this area. He recalled watching his first snow storm with his mother as a young boy. His nose and small hands were pressed up against the window one early December evening. Marco had begged her to take him outside so they could make a snowman.

“Not tonight, dear one. The snow is not yet ready. Faeries must bless the snow with their magic just before morning light. This way, your snowman will come to life.”

Sure enough, the following morning his mother pointed out the beautiful sparkles catching the early light in the snow.

“Look, my love. The faeries were here.” He always thought of his mother when it snowed.

Fortunately, that reminder would never be taken from him. But his thoughts returned to the broken ornament. It had been a souvenir from when she had taken him to Murano to see the artisans blowing glass. He was six years old at the time. Marco remembered the colored building lining the canal and the way the sun reflected the water that day. He stood transfixed as the artists blew through long poles expanding the liquid glass at the end. The glass was cut and the dripping remnants were twirled and twisted creating elegant designs. In one of the shops, Marco spied a purple glass heart with specks of gold inside. On top of the heart was a graceful loop where a gold ribbon was tied in a bow.

“Shall we bring it home to add to our Yule adornments, my love?” Serena had caught Marco eyeing the ornament. 

“Yes, please Mama,” he implored.

That evening, Serena held him up while he tied the ornament to a branch on the tree. He fell asleep near the fire watching the ornament catch and reflect the flickering flames.

She had adored the Yuletide. This was the reason Marco had gone to great lengths to make the season special. It felt as if he were keeping her spirit alive with his efforts each year. It was his own personal tribute to his mother.

Giovanni’s scorn did not go unnoticed in response to Marco’s efforts each year. He had loved Serena as well. But Nihil’s grief over her death had undone all the family ties she had created. He became impossibly stubborn and unreasonable losing interest in The Church and his own sons. Each of them retreated within to grieve her alone. Marco realized Giovanni was likely still suffering from her loss as well, even though he never spoke of her after she died. He fell asleep wondering if losing her made Giovanni the morose and bitter man he became.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snowflakes glistened in the morning light. A blanket of snow covered the hills surrounding The Abbey overnight. Marco had drawn the heavy velvet draperies back to marvel at the sight.

“Good morning, Mama. God Jul.”

He was grateful for the scene. His heart felt lighter and the events of last evening seemed distant.

Marco dressed and entered his office in the next room to plan his day. A gold box with a purple bow had been placed atop the blotter on his desk. There was no card attached. He untied the bow and opened the lid to find the ornament carefully contained within. The broken pieces were gilded together with an elegant narrow vein of gold. The length of gold enhanced the specks housed within the glass heart.

A single tear gathered in the corner of his eye and slipped down Marco’s cheek. His heart swelled as he spoke aloud…

“I love you too, brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little more touchy feely than I intended but it seems this story wanted to be told. Thanks so much for reading!


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